The Crow and Cub. Fab. 11.
A Crow with prey flies to a tree,
And there proclaimes what he had got;
The Fox perceiv'd what it might be,
And followes fast as he could trot;
And thus the Crow he doth salute;
Save thee faire Bird: now I see fame
A lyar's false and absolute,
That blacke as pitch, dares the proclaime:
Why thou art whiter than the Swan,
Or driven snow, and couldst thou sing,
Were voice as good as fethers, then
Of all the Birds thou might'st be King:
With flattery thus the Crow abus'd
Begins to thinke upon a noate,
Guld with deceit, the Fox had us'd:
And as he straind to cleare his throat,
The Cheese he got dropt from his bill,
Which cunning Reynard quickly caught,
And having eat thereof his fill,
At the poore Crow he stood and laught:
The Crow sore vext at's losse and folly,
Flies to the wood in Melancholie.
Morall.
Vnworthy people which doe take delight
To heare their owne praise, love the Parasites